


This City Will Always Pursue You

by puella_nerdii



Category: Suikoden III
Genre: Class Differences, Gen, I went to Crystal Valley and all I got was this lousy True Rune, Mission Fic, Post-Canon, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5463800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puella_nerdii/pseuds/puella_nerdii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Twelfth Unit returns to the heart of Harmonia for the first time since the Fire Bringer War. Aila thinks she's ready to officially join the Southern Frontier Defense Force. Geddoe knows she isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This City Will Always Pursue You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xiuxi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiuxi/gifts).



On the road to Crystal Valley, Ace told Aila that it took two days to cross the city on foot. Aila scoffed. Ace, Queen had told her, was best taken with a healthy dose of skepticism. And a city too broad to cross in a day? How could one settlement take up that much land?

When she finally sees the high walls and higher spires of Crystal Valley, though, she knows—this time—that Ace hasn't exaggerated. Next to Crystal Valley, Vinay del Zexay is a trading outpost, and Caleria is a campsite. Watchtowers of glass and white stone, gleaming like ice, line the road to the city. They join the crush of people at the city gates. No cliff at Great Hollow stands half as tall as these walls. Ace has to nudge Aila ahead when the line moves; she's still looking up, wondering if the walls touch the clouds.

"If they don't hurry up, we'll be stuck outside when night comes," Ace says. "Come on, what's the hold up?"

"We're only a week from Founding Day," Queen says. "Everyone wants to be home by then."

Aila frowns. "Founding Day?"

"It's when Hikusaak defeated Aronia and created Holy Harmonia, if you're religious. If you're not—" Joker shrugs, his mouth tilting up. "The festivals are great."

Ace groans. "Boss, we're not staying for Founding Day, are we? I'm not dragging the old man out of whatever gutter he passes out in."

Joker jerks his thumb at Ace. "And I'm not dragging _him_ away from the festival dancers when they beat him up for getting too close."

Their bickering is as well-worn a routine as the call-and-response of Karayan storytelling. When Aila thinks of it that way, it isn't confusing at all. The line finally lurches forward. Joker stops arguing with Ace long enough to buy a scarf from a roadside merchant.

"We should do that," Ace says. "Can you imagine how much money we'd make if we sold something here?"

Queen smirks. "What would we sell? The latest chapter of Erk's Adventures?"

The tip of Ace's nose isn’t only red from the cold. "Hey—"

"Almost there," Jacques says. Aila starts a little. The earth might speak to her, but even it can't always tell her where Jacques is. And the earth is quiet here. Maybe the frozen ground has driven the spirits too deep for Aila to hear them. Maybe that's the source of the strange fuzz that's been at the edges of her awareness since they entered the valley.

"Have you been here before?" Aila asks him.

Jacques nods. "Once. We were performing…" He trails off, his eyes focused on a distant point. Aila looks in that direction, but sees nothing. "It was a long time ago."

"It's been a long time for all of us, I think," Queen says.

"You've been to Crystal Valley, too?"

Queen's mouth twists. "I lived here, once. Like I said, it's been a long time."

_A long time_ , with the Twelfth, is the sound of a tent flap being tied shut. Whatever's inside is meant for no one else's eyes.

"Hey, old man, how much was that scarf?" Ace asks.

"What? Why do you care?"

"I'm tracking our budget. Do you know how expensive everything is in Crystal Valley? We need all the potch we can get." Ace shakes his head. Doubtless he's balancing their ledger in his mind, watching their expenses mount and their savings dwindle. "Whoever's offering us this job better have deep pockets."

"He does," says Geddoe.

Geddoe isn't like Jacques: you never forget he's there. He might not speak much, but everyone in the Twelfth aligns themselves to his presence in a way Aila can't explain, only feel.

"Oh?" Ace asks. "Who's the client?"

Geddoe glances up. "His Eminence Bishop Sasarai."

Queen draws a sharp breath. Ace whistles. Joker says, "Huh. What does he want?"

"Just clearing up some things about the Twelfth," Geddoe says. It could mean almost anything. Still, Aila's stomach flutters. None of the other SFDF units must have members who haven't officially joined. If one of Bishop Sasarai's questions about why Geddoe hasn't admitted her to the SFDF yet? Does Geddoe need the Bishop's approval to add more people to his unit, and that's why he's here? In Karaya, the leaders of hunting parties have to tell the chief which warriors are coming with them. This could be like that.

And she's waited long enough for this. By the reckoning of any Grasslander—by the reckoning of any ironhead, even—Aila has more than proven herself in battle. She has learned to master her magic, to wield her bow with deadly aim. She has learned to hold her first impulses back when she has to and defer to her commander. She can camp, scout, track, fish, hunt. She beat Elaine in an archery contest at Budehuc, and Elaine has served with the SFDF for years. What more does she need to do?

"—too long," Ace is saying, and Aila drags herself away from speculating further. "No offense, but this place creeps me out. Doesn't it creep you out?"

As they pass beneath the shadow of the wall, the creases around Geddoe's eye darken. Is he smiling? Frowning? "You could say that."

***

"You ever think the boss is going to take us with him to these meetings?" Ace asks. He balances the point of his sai on the table. One of the waitresses shoots him a sour look. The inn reminds Aila of clothing washed too many times. It's clean and well-kept, yes, but the colors have started to run together, and attempts to patch old things with newer ones have made both look strange next to each other. None of the tables in the tavern quite match; the windows rattle anytime a breeze blows by. According to Ace, this inn is the best of a difficult balancing act. Any more expensive, he said, and they'd empty their purses. Any cheaper, and thieves would empty their purses for them. _Sure, we can take them on_ , he added, _but who wants to chase some kid halfway across the city to get a wallet back?_

Joker sets his beer down. "Doubt it. He's probably afraid one of us will say something stupid."

"Someone like you, you mean," Ace says, "because you can't shut your trap when you're drunk."

"This isn't close to drunk."

" _Boys_ ," Queen says, "I can't breathe with all the hot air in here. Aila, do you want to go into the city?"

Ace cocks an eyebrow. "You _want_ to sightsee in Crystal Valley?"

"I _want_ a bowl of stew." Queen glances at her boots and winces. "And new shoes. Are you coming?"

"Hey Ja—oh, why bother. Either he's here or he's not." Ace looks up at the rafters. "Jacques, if you're here, we're heading out."

Inside the walls, Crystal Valley is sharp and brilliant. Even the most cramped buildings manage to catch the light and shine. Bridges spun from stone and glass cross frozen rivers. And a winding white spire spikes high above it all, piercing the sun.

"That's the One Temple," Ace says, when he notices where Aila is looking. "It's got the biggest library on the continent. Too bad it's run by temple guards." He sighs. "They have books so rare that only one person in the whole world’s read ‘em."

"Hikusaak's supposed to live there, somewhere deep inside," Joker says. "Of course, no one's seen him in two hundred years."

Queen elbows him in the side. There's no playfulness in it. "You of all people should know better than to say that here."

The three of them fall silent. Aila watches them look without looking, check windows and doorways and alleys out of the corners of their eyes. Is that why the spirits won't speak to her? Are they afraid of who might overhear?

The cold makes it difficult to focus. Breathing steadily is hard to do when you're shivering. Still, Aila brings her Mother Earth Rune close to her chest and tries to feel the pulse of the ground under her feet. At first, she feels nothing. Then there's a tiny tremble, and the power in her Rune stirs along with it. So there _is_ something here. She walks forward, lost in concentration.

She's so lost that she doesn't notice the woman until they've already collided. Aila staggers back; the woman tumbles to the ground. The trembling vanishes, and the back of Aila's neck heats. _You're Karayan_ , Lucia would scold her if she were here now. _Plant yourself in the earth, and get your head out of the sky._

"Watch yourself!" the woman says, clambering to her feet. Two red spots blossom high on her cheeks. "You second-class citizens…" She pauses and narrows her eyes. The venom in that look makes Aila's fists clench at her sides. "Are you even a second-class citizen, girl? Where are your papers?"

"Girl?" Aila echoes, hackles rising. Reflexively, she reaches back for her bow.

"We're with the Southern Frontier Defense Force," Ace cuts in. He flashes a smile. He's told Aila it's his winning smile, though it only seems to win him slaps. "I've got our papers right here." That part he directs to a pair of guards who've appeared at either side of the woman, glowering down at Ace and Aila both.

"This isn't the frontier," the woman sniffs. "If you can't master basic manners, best stay in the provinces."

"My lady," one guard says, "what do you wish us to do?"

The woman wrinkles her nose. Aila's fists wind tighter. She's no longer shivering from the cold; anger has burned that away. "We haven’t time to teach them a lesson. Well? Out of my way. And where _did_ that boy get to?" She snaps her fingers. Aila can't remember the last time she heard a more hateful sound. "Find him for me."

"Yes, my lady."

The woman brushes by Aila. Queen's hand has settled on Aila's shoulder at some point; Aila hasn't noticed until now, when she feels Queen squeeze.

"Someone ought to teach you respect, girl," the woman says, and Queen's hand or no, Aila finds herself shifting into a warrior's stance.

"Don't," Queen hisses in her ear. "Aila, this isn't worth your life."

"When ironheads speak to Grasslanders that way," Aila hisses back, "they pay in blood."

"Yeah, and how did that end?" Ace is standing beside them now, too. The woman is gone. She must have turned down one of these winding streets. If this city weren't so strange, Aila could track her in a heartbeat. "Look, Harmonia's not the Grasslands. It's not even Zexen."

"You got that right." Joker steps out of a nearby doorway, and calls behind him, "She's gone, kids."

Two children peep out from the doorway, a boy and a girl, pale and dark-haired. There's a shadow under the boy's cheek. Is it dirt, or a bruise?

Queen frowns. "That woman was looking for a boy. That isn't you, is it?"

The boy shakes his head, shrinks back.

"That's not him, ma'am," the girl says. "He's my brother. We work right on this street, honest. We didn't mean to gawk at you—"

"It's all right," Joker says. "You can go on home now."

"No we can't," the boy mumbles to the cobblestones, and the girl shushes him.

"Of course you can't," Queen says. She lets go of Aila's shoulder, walks to the children and kneels next to them. "Where are you from?"

The girl glances to either side, like a plains rabbit searching for boars. "Sanadia, ma'am."

"It's almost Winter's Turning there, isn't it?" Queen says. The children nod. Queen fishes out four potch from her purse, and presses two of them into each child's hand. "There. Buy a candy to put under your pillow, so you'll have sweet dreams all year. Did your parents tell you about that?"

"Yes ma'am," the girl says, "thank you, ma'am, we will, I promise."

"Do you need us to walk you back?" Queen asks.

The girl shakes her head. "We're just four doors down." To her brother, she says, "Say thank you to the nice lady."

"Thank you," the boy says. There are tears gathering at the corner of his eyes.

The girl takes her brother's hand, says "Thank you" one final time, and leaves. All four of them are silent until the children close the door to their house behind them. There's shouting inside, too muffled for Aila to understand, but the tone is familiar enough. She walks closer.

"Don't follow them, Aila," Joker says.

Aila whirls on them, her blood rising to the surface. " _Why_? Why do you allow this?"

"If we go after those kids, they'll get punished, not us," Queen says.

"We could take them somewhere else."

"Where? They can't come with us, and they're third-class citizens wherever they go in Harmonia."

"But—"

"We told you a little about first- and second- and third-class citizens in Harmonia, right?" Ace says.

Aila glances at Queen. "She did."

"That's what this is. That woman on the street that you ran into was a first-class citizen."

"How could you tell?" Aila asks.

"She was blond and blue-eyed. They all are." Ace scratches behind his ear. "Whole lot of inbreeding. Honestly, it gives me the creeps."

"So first-class citizens can do whatever they want?"

"Basically," Joker says. "Unless a priest or another first-class citizen stops them. Or the Howling Voice Guild, but that's—pretty final."

Aila cocks her head to the side. The Twelfth _has_ explained most of this to her before, in Le Buque and in Caleria and on the road. The fragments of information didn't fit together then. Now she's seen more, and her heart rejects it. This is strange. This is wrong. At home, ironheads and Grasslanders met on the battlefield as equals, if nothing else. When Chief Lucia told the clan stories of the war in Dunan, she mentioned kings and queens and nobles, but nothing so— _frozen_ as this place is, where birth creates such vast space between people.

"Let's move on," Queen says. "My new shoes won't buy themselves."

Aila follows her. Light still winks from all the white buildings, but they've lost their shine.

***

The next day, Geddoe walks in as Ace is about to lose his third hand at ritapon. Aila doesn’t understand half the rules, but she still might play the game better than he does.

“Great timing, boss!” Ace says. “You spared these guys the humiliation of defeat.”

Joker snorts. Geddoe raises an eyebrow.

“How did the meeting go?” Queen asks.

“It was…” Geddoe pauses, then decides on, “interesting.”

Aila steadies herself and asks, “Am I in the SFDF now?”

Geddoe blinks, and blinks again, and Aila’s stomach sinks. “What?”

“You didn’t ask him to admit me.” It’s not a question.

Behind her, Ace coughs. “When I said the bishops were over us in the chain of command, I didn’t mean, well, _right_ over us. When someone joins up, we usually go to headquarters at Caleria, fill out some paperwork--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Geddoe says. “You’re not joining.”

The words are a blow to her chest. Aila has to gather her breath back before she can ask, “Why?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Then tell me what they are!” It isn’t fair. After all that’s happened, after all she’s been through with them, it still isn’t enough. What _will_ be? Nothing, she’s starting to suspect. All those days of travel, all those nights camping, all those monsters slain and meals shared and injuries mended--nothing.

Geddoe sighs. “It’s complicated.”

“That isn’t an answer!” Aila is on her feet now. Joker and Queen are trying to tug her back down; she shakes them off. “You’ve let me come with you all this way. And now you tell me I’m not one of you at all.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m not a child,” she says, “and I’m tired of people making decisions for me like I am one.”

“This one _is_ my decision to make,” Geddoe says, quiet but firm. “And my decision is no.”

Aila is a warrior. Warriors do not cry. So she keeps her chin up, marches out the door and down the stairs and into the street, swallowing hard. What makes her so unsuited? What makes her worth any less than any member of the SFDF? The back of her throat stings. This city, this country, doesn’t care about fair or unfair. Maybe that’s the problem.

“I’m sorry,” Jacques says, somewhere behind her.

Aila breathes in, steadies herself. “It isn’t your fault.”

“I’m still sorry.” Jacques unwinds his scarf from his neck and holds it out to her. His neck is even paler than the rest of him, soft and unmarked by sun. “You look cold.”

She accepts the scarf but doesn’t put it on, twists it between her hands instead. “How long did it take you to join the SFDF?”

“Not long,” Jacques said. “The boss found me, and he took care of it.”

“I just don’t see why it’s different for me.”

Jacques looks down. Normally, when he does, his scarf hides his mouth. Without the scarf there, Aila can see him bite his lip. “You--belong to a place.”

“My home was burned to the ground.”

“But your people aren’t gone. They’ll rebuild.”

She closes her eyes. “I guess so.” In her mind, hunters sharpen their knives and sing; children chase each other around the fire pit; elders weave baskets and blankets. That part of her home will remain, no matter where her people are.

“If you wanted to go back…” Jacques trails off, fidgets with the hem of his jacket.

_They’d welcome me back_ , Aila almost says. Would they, though, if she carried the papers of an SFDF agent? Would Chief Lucia turn her away? She didn’t exactly ask before she left. Her cheeks are cold. She tucks her chin into her chest, hunches away from the direction of the wind.

“I’m not ready to go back,” she says instead.

Jacques looks at her, inviting.

“There’s so much more to the world than I ever saw in Karaya,” she says. “Some of it’s horrible. A lot of it is strange. But now I know it’s there, and if I were back in the Grasslands, I’d be thinking about it all the time. I’d be thinking about--” She cuts herself off before she says _you_. “-- the Twelfth, and what you were doing.”

He nods. “You don’t have to wonder, now.”

“I’m ready to join,” she says. “Sometimes I don’t think he’ll ever let me.”

Jacques reaches his hand out, then lets it fall before Aila can react. “It might not be what you think it is.”

“I don’t know _what_ it is, since he won’t tell me.”

“I could talk to him,” Jacques says, tinging pink, half to the cobblestones and half to her. “If you want.”

She’d laugh at the idea if he didn’t sound so sincere. “Thank you.”

He nods, curls himself against the wall, eyes darting from side to side.

“I’m going back in,” Aila says. “Do you want your scarf back?”

“Keep it,” Jacques says. “It--looks nice on you.”

***

“The bishop gave us a job,” Geddoe says. “The Howling Voice Guild’s sending an operative after a priest tonight. We need to protect the priest, and bring the operative in alive. That’s about it.”

“That’s about it?” Ace echoes. “It’s the _Howling Voice Guild_.”

“How much is the bishop paying us, exactly?” Joker asks.

Geddoe shrugs. “Expenses, plus another two thousand, and he’s reinstating the Twelfth.”

Aila isn’t sure she understands half of this. “What’s the Howling Voice Guild?”

“They’re assassins,” Queen says. “In theory, they work for the priesthood. In reality--well, explaining Harmonian politics would take all afternoon.”

“More important,” Ace says, “what do you mean the bishop’s ‘reinstating’ the Twelfth?”

Joker elbows him in the gut. “Isn’t it obvious? We did disobey direct orders from Harmonia.”

“And attacked Harmonian troops,” Queen adds. “That was all before the bishop joined forces with the Fire Bringer. I’m guessing we’ve been removed from active duty at the very least, if not court-martialed in absence.”

“Then what account have we been charging everything to--I don’t even want to think about it.” Ace rakes his fingers through his hair, and Aila thinks he might rip handfuls of it out by the roots. “We don’t have much of a choice here, huh.”

“No,” says Geddoe.

Ace throws up his hands. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go meet this priest.”

They take a carriage to the church. Reaching it would take four hours on foot, Geddoe explains, and they need to be there before nightfall. The carriage rattles down the streets, hitting every crack and uneven cobblestone, and jostles Aila down to her bones. Why do people willingly travel like this? She sticks her head out the window to breathe better. As they go on, the buildings stop crowding together so closely and spread sideways instead of up. Grand walls and bustling roads and clusters of market stalls give way to patches of grass and dirt roads. In the distance, the high walls of Crystal Valley still crest the hills, but they seem less weighty here.

“We’re on the outskirts of one of the second-class districts,” Queen says. “Some first-class citizens have estates to the west, but they’re hidden by that hill. They wouldn’t want second-class citizens peeking in on them, after all.”

“And all that land is theirs?” Aila asks. “They don’t share it with anyone?”

“They have tenant farmers.” Queen drums her fingers on the side of the carriage. “But it’s hardly the same as what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t know what to think,” Aila says.

Queen smiles, soft and weary. “I understand. There’s nowhere else quite like it.”

Finally, the carriage releases them in front of a church. It looks like it’s been lifted from the heart of the city and set down here, from the spiraling glass windows to the teardrop-topped towers to the high arching doors. Ace pushes one open with a grunt, and they step inside. Portraits of a man in blue robes line the walls. Rows and rows of benches stretch to the altar at the front. They’re empty now, but if they were ever all filled, Aila wonders how anyone could breathe in here.

“Father Valentin?” Geddoe calls.

A man emerges from behind the altar. He’s half a head taller than Aila at most, balding and bony, with close-set eyes and a sagging mouth. “His Eminence sent you? Oh, glory to his Holiness!” He presses his palms together and bobs forward in what might be a bow but reminds Aila more of a bird pecking at seeds. “I can’t imagine how a man of my humble station could have attracted such dreadful attention--“

“We’ll worry about that later,” Joker says. “You have any rooms in this place without giant windows?”

“Ah, yes. Our sanctum. Follow me.” He beckons them forward. Geddoe, Joker, and Queen follow. The priest’s head keeps twitching over his shoulder to look at them, and he scurries forward when Joker nearly reaches his side. Ace and Aila stay back. Jacques probably does too, but Aila can’t find him.

“Why _do_ assassins want to kill him?” Aila asks.

“The bishop didn’t say, and I guess the boss didn’t ask.” Ace sighs, lifts his eyes towards the ceiling. “It looks like a stiff breeze would finish that guy off, I don’t know why the Howling Voice Guild needed to call someone in. But it’s not our job to ask questions.”

“The priest is afraid.”

“Well, yeah. Someone wants to kill him.”

Aila shakes her head. “He almost ran from Joker. I think he’s afraid of _us_.”

“Huh. You’re right.” Ace scratches his chin. “Still, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Most people in Crystal Valley aren’t used to dealing with the SFDF.”

It’s a reasonable explanation, but it doesn’t quite ease her disquiet.

Geddoe and Joker reenter the church, closing the door to the sanctum behind them. “Queen’s staying with Father Valentin,” Geddoe says. “The rest of us should take position.”

“Right,” Ace says. “Are there any other doors into the sanctum?”

“No, but there’s a hallway right behind the back wall,” Joker says. “A Guild operative could break in that way. Ace and I can keep watch there. If we do it right, we can trap the operative in the hall.”

“How quickly can you get to the sanctum?” Geddoe asks.

“I’d need to time it,” Joker says, “but probably a minute. As long as this guy can keep up.”

“As long as _I_ can keep up?” Ace repeats.

“You heard me.”

Geddoe holds up his hand. “Jacques is on the roof. He’ll signal us if he sees the operative.”

“I can join him,” Aila says.

Geddoe shakes his head. “I need you down here.”

“Guild operatives use all kinds of toxins,” Joker adds. “Your magic’s the best suited for nullifying them.”

She nods, accepting that.

“What about you, boss?” Ace asks.

“I’ll take the front, with Aila.”

Aila’s stomach knots. Geddoe is the best of any of them in a fight, of course, even if he chooses not to use his True Rune. But after the words they exchanged at the inn -- she closes her eyes, settles her breathing. The battlefield is no place for quarrels between allies. Geddoe knows that, too.

***

Ace and Joker leave, and only Aila and Geddoe are left in the church proper. In the fading light, shadows from the statues lengthen across the floor. Geddoe lights the torches along the walls. As the torchlight flickers, the shadows dance across the statues’ faces, almost animating their expressions. Geddoe motions to Aila to take cover out of sight of the windows, behind one of the statues. Now isn’t the time to talk, so she watches Geddoe instead. His face is as much of a mask as ever. Only his eye moves, surveying the room. His shoulders hold no tension; his breath holds no tightness. After all he’s seen, she supposes, this must hardly be enough to shake him.

A low cooing sound, followed by a slightly higher one, echoes from the rafters. Jacques’ signal for _north, from above_. Aila readies her bow, points it towards the rafters. Beside her, Geddoe draws his sword, and a soft glow settles around the Thunder Rune on his left hand.

There’s a blinding flash, and while Aila blinks to clear her eyes, smoke fills the church. Coughing, Aila draws out the power of her Mother Earth Rune, whispers a prayer for its blessing. Its power spreads from her hand and washes over her and Geddoe, purging the poison around them. Above them, Jacques’ bow sings. By the dull thud after, though, he only hit wood.

“Get down!” Geddoe shouts. She ducks just as the statue explodes into pieces, raining chunks of stone on her back. It hurts, but she was spared the worst of the wash of heat, and she’s on her feet again soon enough, searching for the assassin. The torchlight doesn’t quite reach the rafters, and she hears no footfalls above her or on the ground. Still, there must be some sort of tell --

A sharp gust -- a Wind Rune? -- blows the torches out. Aila keeps her hand steady on her bow, forces herself not to move. Concentrate. Breathe. _Listen._ There, to her left, two heavy sets of footfalls. That must be Ace and Joker. Joker’s still wearing his Fire Rune, isn’t he? As the door creaks open, Aila calls, “Light the torches!”

A small blast rings out above her. Before she can dodge, something rips into her arm. She stumbles back, feeling for the arrow, but there is none, only a steady ooze of blood. Spirits’ breath, what was that? Pain sears its way up her arm; she grits her teeth against it and calls on her Shield Rune. It draws a battlesong from her veins, and soon the pain is barely worth remarking on. Her sight adjusts; her hearing sharpens.

“Thanks, Aila!” Ace calls. So the battle oath reached him, too. Next to him, fire flashes from Joker’s hand, breaks into smaller tongues of flame. They ignite the torches again, and this time Aila spots a cloaked shape in the rafters, moving fast. “Up there!” she cries, and tries to ready her bow, but her injured arm is shaking too badly even if the pain’s lessened. Behind her, Geddoe chants. A fork of lightning strikes the rafter, just ahead of the assassin’s foot. The assassin jumps back but overbalances, slips off the side.

“Got him!” Ace cries, but too soon. Some kind of wire shoots from the assassin’s sleeve and winds around another beam. The assassin swings around, avoiding a bolt from Jacques’ crossbow and another blast of fire from Joker. More of those explosions ring out. Joker swears and yanks Ace down behind a bench, and Geddoe dives to the ground too, with Aila following.

“What _is_ that thing?” she asks.

“A gun,” Geddoe says. “Only the Guild’s best operatives get them. They’re fast, and they hurt.”

She winces. “I know.”

He rolls a medicine bottle to her. She uncorks it with her teeth, drinks it down. Her arm tingles as it knits itself back together, and as she watches, a small lump of metal is pushed out of her wound.

“That’s a bullet,” Geddoe says. “Go find Jacques. Help him. I’ll cover you.”

There isn’t time for questions. She scans the room. If she were Jacques, where would she be? Somewhere high up, obviously, with a good line of sight. She notices a balcony in the back of the church, right over the main doors. He must be there. There’s a smaller door just to the right of the main doors, too. A stairway? Aila slings her bow over her back and gets to her feet, dashes towards the smaller door. The explosions follow, but she doesn’t dare look back to see if they’re targeted at her. Besides, Geddoe said he’d cover her. That’s good enough. She flings the door open, panting, and takes the steps up two at a time.

Sure enough, Jacques is up there, crouched behind the railing as he winds another bolt back on his crossbow.

“We need to get the assassin down from the rafters,” she says. “Right now, we can only reach with bows and magic.”

Jacques nods. “Any ideas?”

“My Mother Earth Rune’s no good if the assassin isn’t on the ground--wait.”

He cocks his head to the side.

“Boronda Hawk. You can cover the entire church with that, right?”

He nods.

“Good.” Aila rises from cover, and takes careful aim, monitoring the rafters for movement. Before she looses an arrow, Jacques climbs up on a bench beside her, jumps, and fires. At an unseen command, the air ripples, and the rafters are filled with a hail of arrows. There are almost too many arrows to spot the assassin through, until she hears a soft unfamiliar grunt. Across the room, the assassin staggers back from a bolt to the calf. Aila nocks her bow and fires at the assassin’s side. Her arrow finds its mark; the assassin tumbles from the rafters and hits the ground, where Ace is waiting, sais drawn.

Jacques leaps off the balcony as though it’s nothing and lands on the head of a nearby statue. Aila -- well, Aila isn’t Jacques, so she runs down the stairs again. On the ground, the assassin is fending off Joker’s fists and feet while Ace circles to strike from the rear. Geddoe keeps the assassin unbalanced with carefully-timed bolts of lightning. His left sleeve is dark with blood, and Ace’s mouth is screwed up with pain. Aila calls on her Shield Rune again and sends a pulse of magic through the ground: the energy of growth, birth, renewal. When the pulse clears, both Geddoe and Ace are standing straighter, and the assassin is visibly slowing. Ace raps the hilt of his sai against the assassin’s temple. Finally, the assassin collapses at Ace’s and Joker’s feet, unmoving.

“Uh oh. Hope he’s not dead,” Ace says.

Joker kneels next to the assassin, his hand around a limp wrist. “She, I think. And she’s alive. Queen might want to put her asleep for a while longer, though.”

“What do I want to do?” Queen asks, emerging from the sanctum. Ace twiddles his fingers and mimics falling asleep, and Queen sends a perfumed gust of wind towards the assassin. She slumps in Joker’s arms, boneless.

The priest sticks his head out from the doorway. “Is it -- is it over?”

“It’s done,” Geddoe says.

“Oh thank you, _thank_ you, may His Holiness bless and keep you and your kin all your days -- “

Aila’s already tired of hearing this. She turns away from the priest, and ends up staring straight into Jacques’ eyes. He’s not smiling. That isn’t unusual. It’s the _way_ he’s frowning that is, the way his lips are pressed together tightly enough to whiten.

“I hear something,” he says quietly. “I don’t like it.”

Aila glances at the other four. Ace and Joker are busy binding the assassin’s hands and arms. Queen is trying to extract her hand from the priest’s grip. Geddoe is checking the church over. Now is as good a time as any to follow Jacques. She nods.

He leads her through the same door Ace and Joker used earlier, but turns left, away from the sanctum. Instead, he takes her down a flight of stairs. The candles mounted in the walls have almost melted to stubs. They hiss as they burn, spitting wax onto the stone. Was this what Jacques heard? No, if she concentrates, she hears something else: a low whimper, below her and to the right. She shivers.

They come to a heavy wooden door with an iron grill set on top. The whimpering is louder here, and the sharp crack of a slap follows.

Jacques pulls a series of pins out of his pocket and starts to work on the lock. Aila doesn’t know whether she ought to be surprised by this or not, but she isn’t. The door clicks open as the sound of another slap ricochets.

Inside --

Aila’s bow is out and ready before her mind catches up to her hands. There are two priests here. One is in the corner, a glowing orb suspended between his palms. The other is holding a child in place on an altar. With a sickening twist in her gut, Aila recognizes him. He’s the little boy from Sanadia, the one Queen gave money too. Harsh red light is shining from the backs of his hands and his forehead, and tears stripe his cheeks.

“What in His Holiness’s name -- “ the priest holding the orb begins. Aila sends an arrow into his thigh, and he doesn’t finish. The orb falls, and the red light fades from the boy.

The other priest lets the boy go, backs away slowly as Aila advances. She doesn’t need a Shield Rune to feel the song of war in her blood now. There’s a heavy pounding in her ears, almost as loud as her breath. “What,” she snarls, “are you _doing_ to this child?”

“You -- you have no right to be here --“

“Answer me!”

The priest swallows. She watches his throat rise and fall. “This is standard procedure, we have the sanction of the bishopric--“

“You don’t have mine.” The world narrows to a furious point behind Aila’s eyes. “What. Have. You. Done.”

“All the third-class citizens down here, they’ve been reported as troublemakers, and we can’t risk having runes fall into the hands of dangerous elements--“

Her stomach heaves. “You’re sealing their rune gates. You’re cutting them off from magic.”

“Magic, extraordinary talents, enhancements...are you here with that unit of the Southern Frontier Defense Force? Imagine, just imagine if you were called in to put down a rebellion, and the locals had the power of runes on their side, surely you must see the danger in that.”

He’s too close to kill with her bow. She carries a knife in her boot for emergencies, and she draws it now, her hand shaking. “You’re disgusting. And you’ll pay for what you’ve done.”

“Aila, wait!”

It’s Ace. She doesn’t look at him.

“Aila!” Joker’s voice, now. “Aila, we can’t kill him.”

“He’s a butcher!” she shouts. The priest shrinks away from her. “They’re taking innocent people, _children_ , and they’re ripping their spirits out.”

“That isn’t--“ the priest begins.

“You can shut up,” Ace says. “Aila, I’m with you. We’ve got a bunch of lousy sons of bitches here. But we got hired to keep the Guild from killing these guys. If _we_ kill them, Bishop Sasarai’ll be pissed as hell.”

Aila hasn’t lowered the knife. “Then we can kill him, too.”

“That wouldn’t be wise.” Queen has joined them. “Bishop Sasarai is one of our strongest allies.” She lowers her voice so the priests won’t hear. “Without him, do you really think Harmonia would leave Geddoe be?”

Bitterness builds in the back of Aila’s throat. “Why? Why did he agree to protect these people?”

“I don’t know,” Queen says. “But I trust him. We all do. He had a reason, even if he can’t tell us what it is.”

“There’s no reason for this,” Aila says, forcing the words out between shaking breaths. “No good one.”

“Can I--“ the priest says.

As one, Ace, Joker, and Queen say, “ _No_.”

“No Karayan would let this stand,” she says. “No Karayan would dream of doing something like this.”

“Karayans helped burn Iksay to the ground,” Joker says.

“To avenge our village! This is different!”

Joker’s voice cracks through the room like a whip. “And that made it right, did it? How many children died at Iksay? How many men and women too old to fight back?”

She flinches.

“Yeah, this is different,” he says, his tone softening. “But no one’s got a monopoly on the awful things people do.”

“You can be a Karayan warrior, Aila,” Ace says, “or you can be part of the Twelfth. If you’re a Karayan warrior, then go ahead. Kill this guy. But if you’re with the Twelfth, wait for the boss’s orders.”

The tip of her knife wavers. A bead of sweat rolls down the back of her neck. “This is wrong,” she says.

Queen’s hand rests on her shoulder. “Then trust the boss to know that, too.”

“I let them go,” Jacques says.

Everyone turns to look at him, the priests included.

“There were wards.” He holds up a mostly-burnt Silent Lake talisman. “And the doors were locked. I took care of it.”

No one makes a sound, until Joker lets out a bark of laughter. “Good one, kid.”

“What happened here?” Father Valentin elbows past Jacques, staring at the room in horror. “You’ve interrupted absolutely essential work for the bishoprate! I would never question His Eminence, of course, but I beg you, consider why His Eminence sent you here!”

“I did,” Geddoe says, over Father Valentin’s shoulder. Father Valentin takes a step back. “His Eminence said to protect you from the Guild operative. He didn’t say anything about anyone else.” He raises his voice. “Let’s go. We’re done here.”

Aila’s chest unlocks, and she’s almost staggered by the renewed force of her breathing. Someone tugs at her belt. It’s the little boy. He hasn’t said a word since she came in.

“Please don’t leave me here,” he says.

Queen sighs, but can’t keep a smile from tugging up the corners of her mouth. “Will you look at that. I guess we need to find somewhere else for these kids to live after all.”

*** 

Aila doesn’t know what Geddoe says to the woman, but in a few moments, the boy’s older sister hurtles down the steps and hugs her brother tight. They walk the children to a modest house nearby. This time, Queen knocks on the door and briefly speaks to a woman with soft blond hair. Queen motions the children forward. They say their final thank yous and disappear inside, smiling all the while. Aila wants to tell them something. _Hold on to each other,_ maybe, or _stay strong_ , or _don’t forget who you are_. But what would any of that mean to them? What _can_ they do?

“Will they be all right?” Aila asks.

“They will,” Queen says. “Julie’s family used to lead the People’s Faction of the nobility. If we can trust anyone here with a pair of Sanadian children, it’s her.”

They turn the assassin over to a nearby church. She’s still under the sway of Queen’s sleep spell, and only stirs for a moment when Ace and Joker move her from the carriage. After that, no one speaks until they’ve returned to the inn. At this time of night, the bar is deserted, and a single rune lantern has been left downstairs for light. 

Joker rubs his eyes. “They’re closed? Damn. I could use a drink.”

Ace snorts. “What else is new?”

They argue, because arguing is safe and easy, and requires them to say nothing they haven’t said a thousand times before. Aila isn’t looking to argue, though. Instead, she scans the room for Geddoe. He’s sitting at the table farthest from the door, his elbow on the arm of his chair. There’s an empty seat to his right, his blind side. She takes it.

“Did you know?” she asks.

“No,” he says.

“Do you think Bishop Sasarai knew?”

Geddoe considers that, his fingertips tracing circles on the table. “He might have. He might not have. It’s hard to say. Harmonia’s complicated. I’ve been here for years, and I don’t know half the games that go on.”

“If you don’t know, then why do you help them?”

“Because if I don’t, they’ll find someone else to.” He sighs; almost imperceptibly, his shoulders sag forward. “I’d never ask anyone else to make that compromise.”

She looks at the rest of the Twelfth: at Joker, leaning against the bar and laughing; at Ace, cleaning off his boot; at Queen, working out a kink in her neck; at Jacques, staring down at the rest of them from the top of the stairs. “You asked them.”

“They knew what I was asking them to do. You didn’t. Now you do, too.”

She lowers her head, closes her eyes. “What happened tonight...I won’t fight for a country that does that to people. And it’s not about what a Karayan would do or wouldn’t do. _I_ won’t.”

“I understand,” Geddoe says.

“But I’ll fight for the Twelfth,” she says, and opens her eyes again. “I don’t have to be part of Harmonia to be part of your team.”

The shadows around Geddoe’s mouth grow lighter. “You already are.”

 

  
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End file.
